A tremor, born from the very essence of an ancient deity, pulsed within Wang Lin, causing his eyes to gleam with an inner light. The mark of the Ancient God, emblazoned upon his brow, flickered faintly. With a deep, steadying breath, he quelled the surging power, and the star ceased its ephemeral dance.

His gaze, sharp and unwavering, fixed upon the monstrous Wang Yue in the distance, its myriad tendrils writhing like colossal serpents. A profound awe washed over him.

“Years ago,” he mused, his thoughts echoing in the chambers of his mind, “when I sought refuge within the Wang Yue to escape the clutches of the Yao family, I sensed the covetous gaze of the cultivators of Luo Tian upon it. Who possesses the power to not only tame this celestial beast, but to present it as a tribute to the Alliance? Could it be…him?” A gasp escaped his lips as two figures surfaced from the depths of his memory.

The first, he recalled, was during the clash between Qing Shui and the Blood God. The second, etched vividly in his mind, was the sealing of the one hundred and eight Immortals, and the rending of the very fabric of space to forge pathways between star domains. As the colossal tree before Wang Yue roared closer, the shockwaves radiating from its advance sent a ripple of exhilaration through the assembled cultivators behind Wang Lin, and a joyous cheer erupted amongst them.

As one, the throng of cultivators surged forward, their desires ignited by the spectacle before them.

Wang Lin hesitated for but a moment before joining the frenzied advance towards the titanic tree. From afar, its immensity was already apparent, but as he drew near, the sheer magnitude of its presence pressed upon him, an overwhelming wave of power that threatened to buckle his resolve.

Countless cultivators, astride their enchanted blades and mystical artifacts, thronged around the colossal tree. Upon its boughs stood a select few, less than a hundred souls deemed worthy to stand upon its sacred wood.

At the forefront of this esteemed gathering stood the venerable Lie Yunzi, patriarch of the Zhan clan, and the ancient Shen Gong, their backs straight, robes billowing in the unseen winds, their gazes sharp as lightning, their expressions carved in ice.

Behind them stood the remaining cultivators, the majority being amongst the hallowed one hundred and eight Immortals. Others were unknown to Wang Lin, yet the raw power emanating from their beings spoke of cultivation far beyond the ordinary, residing in the realm of Yang Spirit and Kuan Peak.

Amongst the hundred, more than a dozen had reached the stage of Peeping Nirvana. Yet, three figures in particular captured Wang Lin’s attention. The first was an old man, cloaked in shadows and crowned with white hair, seated cross-legged upon the right side of the tree. His face bore scars, ghastly trails that writhed with a life of their own. To behold them was to invite a chill that seeped into the very bone.

As Wang Lin’s gaze fell upon him, the old man seemed to sense his scrutiny. His eyes flashed with a lupine glint, and as their gazes met, a sinister smile spread across his lips.

The second figure that captivated Wang Lin was a woman, a vision of radiant beauty. Her features were as delicate as the peach blossoms of spring, her demeanor as pure as the chrysanthemums of autumn. Her age was hard to discern, somewhere in her thirties, her eyes sparkled with an inner light. Her skin was like alabaster, and her eyes hinted at the depths of the ocean.

She stood upon the tree, adorned in a light green gown adorned with intricate floral patterns, over which flowed a golden veil. Her dark hair was only slightly pulled back, and a small red gem hung above her brow.

The speed of the tree caused the veil to sway with the currents, making her appear as a celestial being.

Seeing Wang Lin staring, she smiled, her smile holding an untouchable grace.

The third figure was a young man, clad in simple white silk. Three bamboo flutes encircled him, filling the air with a surreal melody that seemed to solidify in the air. The melody had formed illusions and many lost their minds to the song.

Ignoring Wang Lin, the young man’s eyes were closed, with arrogance in his face.

It was their cultivation that could not be seen through that caused Wang Lin to focus on them. As Wang Lin observed those upon the tree, countless eyes fell upon him. Such was his renown within Luo Tian that his identity was instantly recognized. And the roar of the Flying Tiger behind Wang Lin helped with the recognition.

Throughout their journey beside the tree, they had encountered scattered remnants of the Luo Tian forces, groups of a few dozen, often battered and disoriented.

The sight of Wang Lin’s assembled force of hundreds was astonishing to all.

It was obvious that the tree was the reason they were all there. “Xu Mu, the Thunder Immortal!”

“It is Xu Mu, he crushed all during the Immortal Sealing War!”

“The reason so many are here is Xu Mu!”

All eyes were upon him now, but they only knew him from what they had heard on a family stone.

Wang Lin remained calm through the attention.

“Xu Mu, come to me!” Lie Yunzi said with a smile.

Wang Lin nodded and quickly made his way towards the tree, the rushing wind trying to stop him, he used his own power to stop the air, making him suddenly explode towards the tree.

As the sound reverberated, Wang Lin’s body began to twist, all attention on him crumbled.

Without any hesitation, Wang Lin stepped onto the tree.
In that fleeting moment, every cultivator outside the colossal tree stilled, their eyes sharpening. Though tales of Wang Lin’s prowess had spread far and wide, witnessing it firsthand stirred awe within their hearts! Unbeknownst to Wang Lin, to stand upon the Great Arbor signified a rare and esteemed position in this realm. Along their journey, many deemed themselves worthy to attempt the ascent.

But few, alas, possessed the might to achieve it. Even amongst the hundred souls presently gracing the tree’s surface, a vast majority had resorted to arcane artifacts and formidable spells, expending tremendous effort to merely secure a precarious foothold.

Despite their struggles, the surrounding throng dared not belittle their achievement. Those who conquered the Great Arbor were undeniably powerful! Yet, the ripples of astonishment that had washed over the ten thousand onlookers crested into a tidal wave upon Wang Lin’s effortless arrival. He ascended with such grace, such utter composure, that it was a stark contrast to the trials they had witnessed. Only three others, the venerable Lie Yunzi and the ancient Shen Gong amongst them, had exhibited such ease. Wang Lin was the fourth.

“The Thunder Immortal Xu Mu… truly, his name is well-earned!”

Such thoughts bloomed in the minds of the assembled cultivators.

The hundred already upon the Great Arbor turned their collective gaze upon Wang Lin as he joined their ranks. Each gaze held a different nuance. Some, veterans of the sealing war, harbored deep respect for him. Others, though unfamiliar with his visage, felt a tremor of recognition, finally grasping the true extent of Wang Lin’s power.

A young man clad in white robes, three bamboo flutes circling him, snapped open his eyes, scrutinizing Wang Lin for a moment. He offered a slight nod, but remained silent.

The woman adorned in palace attire simply broadened her smile. And even the black-robed elder regarded Wang Lin with a newfound interest.

These three possessed insight honed by their cultivation, reaching the later stages of the All-Seeing realm. They discerned the profound nature of Wang Lin’s effortless ascent, realizing that his actions betrayed not only a mastery of primal force but a nascent understanding of the very fabric of reality. While they acknowledged his cultivation lagged behind their own, they instinctively recognized him as an equal, a kindred spirit on a similar path.

After all, few cultivators in the All-Seeing realm actively sought to comprehend the laws of existence! In the world of cultivation, strength dictated respect. To earn recognition, one must reach the same echelon of power. Standing beside Lie Yunzi, Wang Lin offered a respectful bow, stating, “Xu Mu greets Senior Lie Yunzi.”

Then, turning, he offered the same courtesy to Shen Gong Lao Zu.

Lie Yunzi chuckled, preparing to respond, when his expression suddenly twisted. The colossal Wang Yue, its countless tentacles swaying behind the Great Arbor, convulsed as if in a fit of madness, unleashing a deafening roar.

Its eyes, shifting between clarity and confusion, locked onto Wang Lin atop the Great Arbor. The roar intensified, a near-bestial howl that sent shockwaves rippling through the star-strewn void. Cultivators nearest the Great Arbor reeled, their faces contorted in pain, their minds reeling.

Wang Lin turned, casting a cold glance at the maddened Wang Yue. He had expected to be recognized. He knew the beast well, knew its uncanny memory for those who provoked its wrath. He had twice incited its fury, ensuring his face was etched into its primitive consciousness! Now, consumed by rage, the Wang Yue lurched forward, its tendrils writhing and extending toward the Great Arbor.

Lie Yunzi frowned, his right hand cleaving through the air. A tear in space opened before him, revealing a jade slip, unremarkable in its appearance. Grasping it, he flung the slip at the approaching Wang Yue. The speed was breathtaking. The slip struck home as the beast roared, shattering into fragments. Yet, in that instant of disintegration, a sound boomed forth like thunder.

“Xun Yun Gou!” The utterance was strange, complex, unintelligible to the surrounding cultivators. Only Wang Lin’s heart leaped. It was the language of the Ancient Gods! And when he grasped its meaning, even his formidable composure faltered. His face paled!